Keeping Fred
by antiquitas
Summary: I'm Gemma. 5th year. Quidditch enthusiast and...ahem..."backup" Gryffindor keeper. I'm a potions master, transfiguration failure, and drinking game enthusiast. George Weasley is my best mate, has been since we met on the train. He knows me better than I know myself. Through thick and thin, he's always been there for me. And then there's Fred...how do I describe our relationship...
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: I don't own Harry Potter. Duh.**

It's not exactly a new story is it? The cool, tomboy girl, best friends with all the guys...oblivious to her girl-next-door charm, natural beauty, painfully unaware one of her very best guy friends is madly in love with her adorable quirkiness, just waiting for the perfect, romantic moment to sweep the girl off her feet...

That's not my story. Maybe it would be if I wasn't disgustingly vulgar...or if I had tits. Merlin I wish I had tits...

Anyway...I'm Gemma. 5th year. Quidditch enthusiast and...ahem..."backup" Gryffindor keeper. Despite my constant efforts, I haven't managed to kill Oliver Wood. Yet. Thank Merlin the wanker graduates this year. I'm a potions master, transfiguration failure, drinking game enthusiast and sarcastic bitch extraordinaire. George Weasley is my best mate, has been since we met on the train. He knows me better than I know myself. Through thick and thin, he's always been there for me.

And then there's Fred...how do I describe our relationship...

Let me put it this way; the Weasley twins are two halves of the same whole, better when together, two peas in a pod, blah blah blah. They agree on everything.

Everything except me, that is.

I am Gemma Lorraine Fry. George Weasley is my best friend. Fred Weasley wishes I was dead.

Like I said, it all started on the train.

Back then, I was just a scared little girl, weren't we all? My 19 year old sister, Ani, Ravenclaw Quidditch legend and intern to Ludo Bagman, took me to the train station. My mother was working in Greece at the time, diffusing ancient spells and curses over temples to make them safe for visitors, and got caught up in a particularly nasty curse over a temple of Hera. Personally, even at 11, I never really minded my mum not being around much. I knew she loved me, but she loved her work as well. Plus, I got to spend my summers playing in ancient temples. To date, I've been kicked off the Athenian Acropolis 12 separate times. Almost got arrested once, too. But that's a different story.

Anyway...11 years old, sister at the train station, blah blah blah. I skipped the whole, "oh my trunk is so heavy, will some big, strong 3rd year help me lift it onto the train and fall madly in love with my youth and innocence?" game I watched my fellow first year girls play. Maybe they had the right idea. That trunk was bloody heavy. I hugged my sister goodbye, promising to write (which I would), stay out of trouble (which I wouldn't), and make it on to my future house's Quidditch team (well...sort of), and made my way onto the scarlet train, hiding, to the best of my ability, just how terrified I was.

I was absolutely not prepared for what I was about to experience. In my train car alone, there had to be dozens of compartments, fine on its own, but add dozens of students hugging friends they hadn't seen all summer and rushing into compartments, and things get a little more...what's the word I'm looking for, fucking chaos. Yeah, that's it. I, along with my fellow first years all scrambled in different directions, clinging to newly made "friends" from the platform and our belongings. As quickly as the frenzy started, it was gone, and I was alone. Pacing the corridors of the train and psyching myself up to (ew...) talk to people, I tried a compartment. Inside was just one other student, a boy with messy red hair, innocent brown eyes (one of the Weasley twin's more misleading features), and-swoon-freckles. A little known secret about myself, and I swear if you tell anyone, I will sell your shrunken head to a cart of gypsies, but I adore freckles, especially Weasley. The entire line of Weasley men is just a little gorgeous. Especially Bill...oh the things I'd do to Bill...

Right. Train. Compartment. Sorry.

So there was an innocent little Weasley twin, all by his lonesome, flipping through a Quidditch magazine and grinning to himself.

"Er...do you mind if I sit with you?" I stammered.

"It would be an honor, sweetheart."

Those freckles and those big, innocent eyes drew me in. I'd done it! I navigated the train! I'd found a compartment. I was safe.

Yeah, right.

I stashed my trunk and took a seat across from the boy, fidgeting uncomfortably, the boy staring at me intently.

"So...who are you?"

"Quite the charmer you are. I'm George Weasley, and you are?"

"Gemma."

"Do you have a last name, Gemma?"

"Probably..." George grinned at me. Oh be still, my prepubescent heart, those freckles, that smile...Get it together, Gemma.

"So, Gemma Probably, do you like Quidditch?" Ah yes, Quidditch. I'm not much for small talk, but Quidditch, that I can talk about forever.

I opened my mouth, prepared to wow my newfound friend with my knowledge of the greatest sport ever, but when I tried, no words came out. My throat tingled and tightened, my face felt heated and itchy. I kept gasping for air, but to no avail. This was it; I was going to die on the train to Hogwarts. I looked to George, and to my dismay, he was laughing. The crazy fucker was laughing! He was a child murderer, the next You-Know-Who! Why, Merlin? Why was he laughing?

"Fred! I thought we agreed to curse Percy when he came to check in on us!" George said through fits of laughter.

I fell onto the floor of the compartment, and through my fits of CHOKING AND DYING, which seemed to go completely IGNORED, I saw...another George? Another George, perched on the luggage rack. When I died, I was going to haunt the SHIT out of those two.

This was it, I was done for, kaput, gone, I was...vomiting butterflies? I was. They were everywhere, all sorts of colors. Finally, I felt my throat open slightly and began to feel more normal. If you managed to ignore the collection of Lepidoptera currently exiting my body. Taking deeper and deeper breaths between flocks of butterflies, I hoisted myself back onto my seat. George was playfully swatting at the butterflies, oblivious to the death glare I was giving him. The other boy was still on the luggage rack, laughing his STUPID head off.

"What the BLOODY HELL WAS THAT FOR?" I screamed hoarsely, coughing up another batch of butterflies.

"Sorry, Gemma, I had no idea Fred was going to..." I'm not really sure what George was going to say next. I was seething, a wild dog, practically foaming at the mouth. I could hear the blood pounding in my ears, though maybe it was all the damn butterflies.

What happened next, I cannot be held accountable for. I was not of sound mind and certainly not of sound body.

In all honesty, I have no idea how I got up onto the luggage rack. And to this day, I claim to have no memory of socking Fred in his left eye, jamming an elbow into his ribs, and pushing him off the luggage rack.

I will however, take full responsibility for ripping open Fred's trunk, pulling out the two stacks of pants, and throwing them out the window of the moving train. That's just brilliant. And I have zero remorse.

"What the BLOODY HELL are you doing?!" Fred shouted, holding his side. George had long fallen out of his seat and was gasping for air.

"That...was bloody...brilliant!"

Apparently, Fred didn't take too kindly to me throwing every pair of pants he owned out the window.

Before I could scramble down, Fred had me by the waist and ripped me down from the luggage rack.

"Fred, leave her alone!" George wheezed, beginning to compose himself.

"Look, you little brat," Fred threw me onto the compartment's bench and sat on me, "you just started a war,"

"Freddy,"

"Shush George, this little brat doesn't know who she messed with."

"You seem to forget YOU HEXED ME FIRST!" I shouted, hiccupping up another butterfly and squirming under Fred.

"Irrelevant...you've made two enemies..."

"Fred I'm not her enemy..."

"TWO ENEMIES here at Hogwarts!" At this point, Fred was standing and gesturing wildly, oblivious to George's massive eyeroll. It would have been quite the dramatic site had the compartment not still been filled with butterflies.

"Well, if you two are about done, I'll just be going." While Fred had been making his valiant speech, I had been gathering my things and creeping towards the door.

"Oh no you don't!" Fred leapt after me, just escaping George's attempts to grab him.

The last thing I saw of Fred was his face hitting the window of the door as I slammed it shut. After that, I took off in a dead sprint, ducking into a compartment and slamming the door behind me.

"Well hello there love." I whipped around, suddenly remembering that, oh yeah, there were other people on this train.

"Hi." I responded breathlessly, taking in the inhabitants of the compartment. Three boys, all who appeared slightly older than me, were slung casually across the benches.

"Running from something?" the first boy asked. He was tall with dark hair, pale skin, and icy grey eyes. His voice was saccharine and menacing, but I wasn't about to run back into the corridor.

"You could say that," I started, eyeing the silver and green Slytherin crest on his robes. Bingo. "I'm Gemma Fry." My family is pureblood. We prefer to stay out of the pureblood game, but our name is respected nonetheless.

"Fry? Good family. I'm Marcus Flint. Welcome to the Hogwarts Express"

**A/N: Hope you guys liked the first chapter! Let me know what you think.**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Thanks for coming back for chapter 2! As per usual, I don't own Harry Potter. Enjoy!**

_Previously:_

_"Running from something?" the first boy asked. He was tall with dark hair, pale skin, and icy grey eyes. His voice was saccharine and menacing, but I wasn't about to run back into the corridor._

_"You could say that," I started, eyeing the silver and green Slytherin crest on his robes. Bingo. "I'm Gemma Fry." My family is pureblood. We prefer to stay out of the pureblood game, but our name is respected nonetheless._

_"Fry? Good family. I'm Marcus Flint. Welcome to the Hogwarts Express"_

* * *

"Thank you. Now, would you gentlemen mind if I hide out in here? I seemed to have made some enemies in my short time as a student here."

Marcus chuckled and adjusted himself on his bench, "Why don't you take a seat next to me, love. I'll protect you."

Had I not heard the thundering footsteps of who I assumed to be one very angry Weasley twin, I might have declined. And had said angry Weasley twin not started banging on the compartment door, I probably wouldn't have leapt into Marcus Flint's arms.

"Oh Gemma, sweetheart, I would like a word with you." Fred chimed from outside the compartment. I sunk further into my seat, feeling Flint's arm tighten around my waist. Which would have been a little creepy if he wasn't 1. protecting my life and 2. just a little bit handsome.

One of the other boys in the compartment answered the door, blocking the view of the compartment with his body.

"What do you want, Weasley." The boy hissed like the name burnt his tongue.

"Well you see, my dear friend Gemma left my compartment in a tizzy, and well, I'd just like to have a word with her...oh Gemma! Are you in there?" Fred stood on his tiptoes, attempting to see over the burly Slytherin's shoulders.

"It's just the three of us here, but good luck." The boy said sarcastically, slamming the door in Fred's face. I couldn't contain a rather girly giggle.

Flint smiled, "so darling, tell me about yourself."

* * *

"So we meet again, sweetheart," I felt someone take a seat next to me at the Gryffindor table, "Don't worry, it's me, George. Fred is coming though," _thunk_, I felt someone sit on my other side, "ah there he is!"

"Long time, no see, little brat. Now I've decided to forgive you temporarily, seeing as you're just the firey, violent, impulsive kind of person I admire. So until further notice,"

"We've chosen to take you under our wings!" The twins finished in unison. A freaky practice I'd come to secretly admire. I looked to George, who just shrugged and grinned at me, stuffing a spoonful of mashed potatoes into his mouth.

So I'd like to say the only reason Fred hates me is because I threw every single pair of his pants, with the exception of the pair he was wearing, out the window of a moving train, but that just a drop in the cauldron.

There was the time I laced his beater's bat with fluid of Erumpent Horns, one swing and BOOM! Knocked him clean off his broom...get it? Clean off his broom? because brooms sweep...never mind.

Oh! And that time I spiked his shrinking potion to only shrink a *particular* part of his anatomy. Never have I seen a Weasley twin care *so much* about a failing grade...

And the time I bewitched his broom to only fly in reverse. That was so prime. Wood made him run laps for the rest of practice because "You're not taking the game seriously! Is this a joke to you Weasley?! IS QUIDDITCH SOME SORT OF GAME TO YOU?"

And of course the muggle classics, blue dye tabs in the showerhead, hand in warm water when sleeping, perpetual freezing charm on the knickers...ok maybe that one was loosely adapted from a muggle prank, and resulted in Fred informing me of how "free" he felt since he gave up wearing knickers…

All pranks aside, I'm still not sure why Fred hates me so much. George embraced being dyed blue...he never seemed to mind my pranks, and truthfully, I'd like to think there's a certain level of respect from Fred for how amazing I am at humiliating him.

So really, I don't know what it is. But I'm beating a dead hippogriff now, aren't I? Alright, alright, I'll get on with the story.

Nearly 5 years after Fred Weasley lost his trousers, I sat on my trunk, on the side of the road, closely examining a particularly rusty hammer.

I was, of course, holding a portkey. A portkey that wouldn't activate for another 18 minutes. My sister severely underestimated my ability to find a bloody hammer on the side of a bloody road, so she dropped me off 20 minutes early. It took a whopping 2 minutes to find the damn thing.

I was closely examining a deep crack in the handle when I felt Hermes, my elf owl, perch himself on my ponytail and nip at my hair.

"Do you want to meet me there you little shit?" I didn't need to tell him twice, half a second and he was gone. If I was only so lucky.

I look forward to that moment every July. I spend June with my mum in Greece, and July with my favorite ginger family, on the condition that I bring them the tackiest souvenirs and plenty of honey and olive oil. That's also the moment I get a little sick. Call me stupid, but every summer, I had this mad idea that maybe, just maybe, I'd arrive at the Burrow and Fred would greet me with a hug and a smile, and the rest of our relationshit would have just been a running prank. Alas, I probably shouldn't hold my breath.

I checked my watch. Damn. 17 more minutes.

You know what's worse than traveling by portkey? Being awoken violently from a rather nice, albeit accidental, nap by a portkey dragging you through some witchy space-time continuum and spitting you onto a paved road. Believe it or not, that really sucks.

My trunk landed with a thud next to me, its contents exploding everywhere. Hermes floated down and landed on my chest, cooing and snuggling his head into the crook of my neck.

"I see you had a good trip." I sputter as my owl hops up onto my face, seemingly enjoying my temporary immobility. In that moment, I was wildly happy my owl was the size of teacup, since he constantly insisted on scurrying over my face, head and neck as he saw fit.

"Oh Gemma dear, are you alright?!" Footsteps rushed in my direction.

Mrs. Weasley was possibly the most wonderful woman I've ever encountered. And the only woman to have any control over the twins, something Merlin himself couldn't claim.

"Yeah Mrs. Weasley, just a bit of a tumble." I slowly sat up, cringing as the pain from my fall really set in.

"Oh dear, let me help you." Mrs. Weasley flicked her wand and the contents of my life reorganized themselves into my trunk. One of these days, I'm going to learn that spell, I swear.

"GEMMA WHAT DID YOU BRING ME!" I heard a familiar voice shout. There was my Georgie, sprinting across the lawn, arms wide, flapping like a crazy owl that'd lost its balance. My lips spread into one of those painfully happy smiles, the kind you truly believe may get stuck on your face forever. Seeing George made me temporarily forget the pain I was in, and before I knew it, I was on my feet, sprinting full speed towards him.

"Georgie I missed you so...MUCH!" I shouted, leaping into his outstretched arms and clinging onto him like a koala. "Carry me!"

"Merlin you've gotten fat! I can barely hold you up!"

"GEORGE WEASLEY! Never call a woman fat!" Mrs. Weasley scolded, "I thought I raised you better than that! You should be ashamed of yourself!"

"It's ok Mrs. Weasley," I laughed, "He doesn't mean it, and if he does, I'll get him back for it." Mrs. Weasley shook her head and walked away, grumbling things about manners and "no wonder he's single." I looked to Georged and burst into laughter.

"You know, she's got you on that one."

"Miss Fry, you of all people should know I do very well in the love department! Why, just last term, you should have seen the leggy Slytherin girl...Amy? Amanda...yes Amanda..."

"George I don't think that's what your mother had in mind-"

"Amanda was a sweet girl, said she liked bad boys. Had the most gorgeous platinum hair. Kind of like yours, but you know, pretty. And her tits..."

"Yeah yeah yeah ok, I get it. I have no tits. Very original." George snapped out of his little fantasy and glanced down at my chest.

"I don't know, Gemma, they seem to be coming along nicely," I glared at him from my koala bear hold on his neck and torso, "ok so they're the same as they've always been. At least all the laps Wood makes you run gives you nice legs! No? No smile for Georgie?"

"Just go get my trunk."

"Right then. Let's go little monkey"

Several minutes later, George dragged me and my trunk into the burrow, where I finally untangled myself from his torso and straightened out clothes. The Weasley kitchen was easily one of my most favorite places to be. There was always food cooking (my number one priority in life), and people were always coming and going. A far stretch from my usually-vacant home, the change was nice. There was always tea to be had and stories to be shared. And Weasley twins to be scolded, my number two priority in life.

"Gemma dear, good to see you." Mr. Weasley firmly shook my hand.

"It's great to see you too, Mr. Weasley! I have gifts for you, I just have to dig them out of my trunk."

"You're too kind, m'girl."

"Gemma!" A tiny voice called from the stairs. Maybe I'm full of myself, but I think Ginny liked when I came to visit. In a house full of boys, any extra estrogen has got to be appreciated.

"Ginny! Merlin you're so tall!" I dashed over to the stairs, to hug her.

"Bill just got out of the shower. I'd say you have a good 5 minutes before he'll be out of his room." She whispered in my ear.

"And this is why you are my favorite," I whispered back, "excuse me for a minute, guys, I'm just going to make sure I didn't knock anything loose in the fall." George rolled his eyes at me, knowing exactly what I was doing. I winked at Ginny and dashed up the stairs, intending to shut myself in the bathroom to slap on some, "I'm naturally this gorgeous and effortless" makeup.

As I pranced-and yes, I do mean pranced-down the hallway, the gods bestowed upon me the most glorious of gifts. Out of his bedroom walked a still damp Bill, arms stretched overhead, towel slung low on his hips. Before I could stare and drool like an idiot for too long, Bill smiled at me (annnnd I died. Story over...just kidding).

"Hey Gems, didn't hear you roll in," Bill said casually, leaning up against the wall. "How was Greece?"

"Oh you know, beautiful, covered in ruins, danger in every step you take, the usual. You'd love it." How I managed to keep it together is beyond me; internally, I was screaming.

"You know," he ran a hand through his damp hair, "I like working in Egypt, but I'd love to get to Greece. Oh hey Fred." Of course he would show up now.

"Fry...I thought I heard your shrill voice." I winced. Busted. Slowly, I tore my eyes away from the Adonis that was Bill Weasley and turned around to see the stupid smirking face of Fred Weasley.

"I'm going to change, but I want to hear all about Greece in a few, Gemma." _Click_. Bill's door closed behind him, leaving me alone in the hallway with my _favorite_ Weasley.

"Jesus, Fry, I could see your boner from the opposite end of a Quidditch pitch."

"Oh Freddy," I said in the most saccharine voice I could muster, "you just wish I was lusting after you, though you have grown up a bit this summer," I trailed my hand down his torso. I felt his breath catch, if only for a moment, "maybe you're not so bad after all."

Fred took a step closer to me. Clearly, it was on.

"You know, Gemma," Fred responded, brushing a hand through my hair, "you are quite beautiful," another step closer, "maybe we could put our differences aside," we were torso to torso, "if only..." he sighed, "...if only you had tits..."

"UGH I HATE YOU." I screamed, shoving him as hard as I could.

"Oh,fiesty!" he drawled, "There's the Gemma I know and loathe! Tell me, how do I look from the bench? Or do we play so high off the ground, the wittle alternate can't see what's happening?" Now, I like to think I'd become more patient and tolerant of Fred's badgering, but Quidditch was a particularly raw subject for me. And Fred knew this. What he didn't know was I was about to rip the smug little grin of his stupid bloody face.

"I'M AN ALTERNATE!" I lunged at him, grabbing onto him the same way I'd latched onto George, "THE ONLY REASON I DON'T PLAY IS BECAUSE THE POSITION IS TAKEN BY THE CAPTAIN, WHO, BY THE WAY, IS TRAINING ME TO TAKE HIS BLOODY PLACE NEXT YEAR!" Fred stumbled backwards, not expecting my assault.

"What the bloody hell is happening out here?!" A now fully-clothed Bill chuckled from his doorway.

"I WILL KILL YOU THERE ARE TWO OF YOU AND NO ONE WILL MISS YOU!" At this point, Fred and I were in a full grappling match.

"Bill save me from this banshee!"

While trying to free a handful of my hair from Fred's fist, I felt a pair of strong hands wrap around my waist and pull me off the ground.

"HEY LET ME GO!" Bill slung me under one arm and started to carry me down the stairs.

"Merlin, when are you two going to get married already?"

"Bill, I have a better chance of marrying Ginny than Fred." Bill chuckled, still toting me along.

"You know, I'm truly starting to believe you two just hate each other."

"Wow, what on earth gave you that idea?"

"William Weasley! Is that any way to treat a house guest?" Mrs. Weasley exclaimed as Bill carried me into the kitchen.

"You know, it's extremely strange to hear mum yell at someone other than us, aye Georgie?" Fred quipped from behind us.

"Truly, Freddy, truly." George responded from the table, offering his cup of tea for emphasis.

As much as I would have loved to spend forever in Bill's arms, I was rather thankful to be set on my own two feet again. In my constant attempt to destroy Fred, it's always good to keep reminders of my tininess to a minimum.

"Alright, all of you, I'm trying to cook, shoo, shoo!" Mrs. Weasley stepped back from whatever heavenly creation she was working on to wave us all out of the kitchen. George pushed back from the table, linking arms with Fred and bowing before exiting the room. Arthur simply chuckled and returned to his daily profit, Bill shook his head and (sadly), left my side to walk out the back door, leaving Ginny and I, side by side, leaving the kitchen last.

"You two looked rather cozy." The twelve-year-old grinned at me. Sometimes I forget our age gap...maybe it's because I have the sensibilities of the average first year.

"Ginny, it was a beautiful site. He was shirtless, in a towel, all stretched out like," I attempted to mimic Bill's pose while walking up the stairs, "and he spoke...Ginny that voice! Just makes me want to,"

"Alright, enough. Ew. That is my brother you're talking about, you know!"

"Er...right, sorry...but Gin...he's just so delicious, the things I would do..." Ginny winced.

"Oy I'm twelve! And his sister!"

"Right, sorry...I'm not sorry." Ginny rolled her eyes at me and opened her bedroom door. George had so kindly thrown my trunk on the spare bed, its contents once again cascading onto the floor.

"Thanks for always allowing me to invade your room, Gin. Hey! I got you a present in Greece." I began rummaging through the contents of my trunk.

"I swear, Gem, if you got me another Parthenon clock..."

My hands tightened around a small parcel wrapped in blue paper, "nah, this is better, believe it or not!" I handed Ginny her present, watching her a little too closely while she opened it.

Out of the box, she pulled a blue and silver bracelet, "it's beautiful! ...What is it?"

"It's the evil eye. It's supposed to protect you from the curses of those who wish to do you any harm, especially those who hide their ill-intentions. Thought you could use the help after last year." Ginny rolled her eyes at me.

"It's lovely, thank you."

I was helping Ginny fasten her new bracelet, thrilled it went over better than the Parthenon clock (come on! It's so damn tacky and wonderful!), when the twins burst into the room.

"What did you bring us Gemmy?" They chimed in unison. Creepy, really, how they do that.

"Have you two EVER knocked in your life?" Ginny shouted.

"...No." Again with the unison thing.

George strolled over to my trunk and began rifling through its contents, pausing only once to hold up a pair of my knickers with an image of the three Quidditch hoops on the front, exclaiming how Wood must simply adore them. Fred snickered. Stupid gits.

"AHA! 'To: Georgie, I hate you. Love, Gems.'" George held his parcel into the air like Harry Potter with a snitch, "Oh, here, Fred." George passed another parcel to Fred.

"'To: Fred, I only get you things because everyone else gets them. Hate you, Gemma.' Oh love, that's the nicest thing you've ever said to me-"

"Gemma, what the bloody hell is this?" George had torn the paper off his gift, revealing a glass box with four compartments, each holding different dried herbs. He began to lift one of the corners, which I snapped quickly shut.

"George, I'm not going to tell you what those are, or where I got them-"

"You got them in Greece-"

"-OR WHERE I GOT THEM, I'm just going to tell you they are not legal to own here and are only fatal in high doses. Be careful with them. They were a bitch to smuggle through customs, and if they get knicked by Filch, it will be your head."

George grinned, "thanks Gemma. I swear I will probably not use them on you."

"Yeah you better not-"

"Hey what the hell?!" George and I whipped our heads over to see Fred had unwrapped his gift, a rather raunchy-though historically accurate-set of coasters featuring the greatest and most vulgar sex scenes of the ancient world.

"What ever is it, my dear Freddy?" I chimed innocently, "I thought you liked Greek mythology?"

"Is that a swan?" George asked, choking down a laugh.

"That's Zeus! and Leda! Merlin you two know nothing!" Poor Ginny was halfway between laughing and burning bright red. Perhaps the Greek erotica coasters weren't exactly suitable for a twelve-year-old to see.

"What's happening in here? Oh hey Gemma! I forgot you were coming today." Oh Ron, the baby Weasley. Sure...Ginny was younger, but definetely more mature. Ron was just...so precious. Soooo easy to mess with...

"Ronnie!" I squealed in my most shrill, girly voice, "I've missed you so much!" I enveloped Ron in a tight hug before he could stop me, kissing him on the cheek and popping one foot in the air, adding to my ditziness. Ron's ears flushed bright red as he tried to sputter out a response.

See? This is why I love Ron. Or all 13 year old boys...not in a creepy way...They fail to notice my extreme lack of tits because I am older, therefore instantly hotter. In a world of tall, leggy brunettes like Alicia Spinnet, us short, boobless blondes gotta take it where we can get it.

Ron finally began breathing again when I let go, grabbing the massive collection of sweets I'd picked for him and handing it off. He sputtered a small "thank you" before leaving the room.

Fred and George immediately burst into laughter.

"See Gems? Bill may not like you, but ickle Ronnikins sure seems to!" Fred sniggered at me.

"You're just jealous George is the better looking twin." I spat back.

"Is not!"

"Oh I am too!" George countered. The two continued to argue, pointing out each other's flaws in Ginny's mirror. I gestured to Ginny to grab the remainder of gifts I had for the family before we snuck out of the room.

"I get the whole 'ancient Greek sex' thing...but why on earth would you get him coasters?" Ginny snickered.

"Because," I started, "coasters are like...the least sexual thing ever. Nothing kills a mood like 'hey baby, would you put a coaster under your drink, yeah, you know that's how I like it."

"You're not right in the head, you know that."

I thought about it for a moment, "You know Gin, you're probably right."

* * *

**A/N: Thanks for reading! Let me know what you think, I'm still new to the whole fanfiction game, so tips/tricks/pointers/constructive criticism is welcome!**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: A massive thank you to everyone who followed and favorited, and a special thanks to Letters From No One for being my first review! As always, I don't own Harry Potter. Unfortunately, I am not that brilliant.**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

_Previously:_

_"I get the whole 'ancient Greek sex' thing...but why on earth would you get him coasters?" Ginny snickered._

_"Because," I started, "coasters are like...the least sexual thing ever. Nothing kills a mood like 'hey baby, would you put a coaster under your drink, yeah, you know that's how I like it."_

_"You're not right in the head, you know that."_

_I thought about it for a moment, "You know Gin, you're probably right."_

* * *

"Oy, Ginny, Fry. Get your brooms. Three on three Quidditch in 10."

"Honestly, Fred, KNOCK!" Ginny shouted, chucking a pillow at her brother, narrowly missing him.

Despite being forced onto teams with Fred…which come to think of it, I'm forced onto a team with Fred at school, too…I loved playing Quidditch with the Weasleys. Ron and I played keeper, Ginny and Bill played seeker, and the twins played a weird beater/chaser combo, which always resulted in arguments over whether or not hitting a bludger through the goal posts counted for points.

And sometimes, Bill would take his shirt off.

"OY FRED WE'RE ON THE SAME TEAM! HOW ABOUT YOU HIT THE BLUDGERS AWAY FROM ME FOR A CHANGE?!"

"Sorry!" Fred shouted, smirking at me and flying off. For the fourth time, I let George's team score because I was too busy NOT taking a bludger to the head. Smacked towards me by none other than my _best_ mate Fred.

"UGH I HATE YOU!" I screamed, tossing the quaffel back into play. Fred grabbed it in seconds, pausing just long enough to…wink at me? I had to be seeing things.

"RON THE GOAL IS TO STOP THE QUAFFEL BEFORE IT GOES THROUGH THE HOOPS!" George shouted. Ron flushed scarlet, dashing after the quaffel, nearly slipping off his broom. The, _swoon, shirtless_ Bill was chuckling madly at his fumbling brother, who managed to grab the quaffel moments before it hit the ground. Soon, the ball was back in play.

The thing about Quidditch with the Weasleys? It gets dirty. And not in the way I always hoped for. Fred and George were currently grappling with each other, Ginny and Bill were in a nose dive, and Ron…well, Ron was just trying to stay on his broom.

All of this was rather funny to me. Until it wasn't. It wasn't anything. It was just…black.

You ever have one of those hangovers so bad your eyes hurt, you taste sulfur, and your blood pounds in your brain like a housewife going after cockroaches with a stiletto? That's kind of how I felt. I peeled open my eyes, feeling like I'd just been smashed by the knight bus, which served as a temporary distraction from my surroundings.

Unfortunately, it was only temporary.

Where was I? A distinct burnt smell hit my nose. My eyes flew open, my foggy brain attempting to piece together where I was. The room was dark with streams of moonlight coming in through the windows. My body was tangled in a mess of blankets; I began to untangle myself from my blanket prison until I hit something.

No, not something. _Someone._

I slowly turned my head, attempting to make out the sleeping mass next to me.

Red hair. _Oh Merlin._ Freckled skin. _Please be Bill. _Faint smell of gunpowder. _Oh no_.

This time, I ignored the pain in my…everything. I whipped around. Bloody hell. I was in the twin's room.

In a twin's bed.

"Please be George please be George please be George…" I whispered. Slowly, I smoothed out the case of the pillow I'd passed out on. A brilliant gold "F" stood out against the scarlet fabric, even in the dark.

I couldn't hold it in. I started shrieking. No sooner had the sound left my mouth before a rough hand clamped over it.

"Why the BLOODY HELL are you shouting, you crazy banshee?!" Fred hissed at me. He was shirtless. Oh Merlin, why was he shirtless?

I grabbed his hand and pulled it away; "WHY AM I IN YOUR BED WHY ARE YOU NAKED WHY DO I HURT WHAT THE BLOODY HELL IS HAPPEN-" Fred's hand clamped over my mouth once again.

"Are you TRYING to evoke the wrath of Molly at 3 am?! Lay back down, you got the doxies beat out of you." Fred pushed me down easily. Normally, I'd have put up a better fight, but between the pain, exhaustion and confusion, I did something I'd never done in my life; I allowed Fred Weasley to tell me what to do.

"But…what?" As the adrenaline ebbed, the pain slammed my body with full force. Thank Merlin Fred is a total girl who sleeps with a thousand pillows and fluffy blankets. Their cushion provided some comfort to my aching body.

"Ok look, during the match today when George and I were fighting over the Quaffle, I sort of knocked a bludger away without realizing it was…sort of aimed for you-"

"Fred Weasley-"

"-and it sort of hit you in the ribs. And you sort of fell-"

"You hit me with a bloody bludger?!"

"Hey, it was an accident! And I only hit one of them…the other just sort of hit you of its own accord...so mum doesn't really like us playing Quidditch, very dangerous, you know, and you were slightly unconscious…so Georgie and I just sort of brought you up here before the others noticed…mum thinks you're spending the night at another mate's house…but you were here, and I obviously couldn't sleep on the floor, that would look suspicious…so um…well…we didn't really think beyond that." Fred finished, rubbing the back of his head with his hand.

"So you're telling me I got the shit pummeled out of me and you lied about it to everyone, threw me in your bed, and then GOT NAKED AND GOT IN BED WITH ME?!" Fred slapped his hand over my mouth again.

"Freddy, Gemmy, stop with the hate sex and go to sleep." George mumbled, rolling over.

"One, I'm not naked…I have knickers on. Two…yes."

"And you're telling me Bill, Ron and Ginny just ignored the fact I was just suddenly _gone_ from the game?"

"Well..."

"FRED!" Once again, he slapped his stupid hand over my mouth.

"As I was saying...we kind of just told them you were fine. And that you wanted a nap." Fred slowly peeled his hand off my face and laid down next to me.

"Oh HELL no I am not sleeping next-AH!" I shot up and my nerves lit on fire. Hot needles pressed into my ribs and low back. Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes. I bit them back as hard as I could. No way in hell Fred was going to get that satisfaction.

"Woah woah woah, careful!" Fred scrambled out of bed and began rummaging around his desk...in only a pair of knickers, true to his world.

Between you and I...and I will hex you into oblivion if you mention this to anyone, I swear...but Merlin, there has got to be something in the water at the burrow. I took in Fred's lean frame. Even in the moonlight, I could see the freckles dusting his broad shoulders. For a moment...I may have even forgot the fact I hated him...for a moment.

"Here, take this," Fred turned around, holding a small vial, "umm...hello?"

"Huh?" I snapped out of my daze and tore my eyes away from Fred's abs. Which weren't _that_ nice.

Fred smirked, "Fry...were you staring at m-"

"NO! I...I-"

"You were, weren't you? Can't say I blame you," Fred turned and flexed in the mirror. Annnd trance broken.

"I was just thinking what a shame it was you didn't fill out like George did this year." Bingo. Fred snapped around and glared at me.

"You know what? I'm not wasting this on you. You can suffer-"

"No no no give me the drugs." I whined.

"Why should I? You deserved to get nailed by those bludgers...stole all my bloody trousers..." Fred mumbled.

"Pleaseeeee?" I batted my eyelashes. Fred stared at me like I had three heads.

"Just...don't...whatever you just did, don't do it. You look like you're having a bloody stroke."

"Freddddd!" I whined."

"Tell me I'm fit."

"What?"

"You heard me," he grinned, striking a pose, "tell me you can't take your eyes off me-NO! Tell me I'm better looking than George!"

"That's just ridiculous, Fred." George mumbled, pulling a pillow over his head.

"You're better looking than-"

"What was that? I can't hear you, sweetheart."

"You're better looking than George-OW!" Fred jumped back into his bed with me, dangling the potion just out of my reach.

"One more time, love..."

"Give her the bloody potion and go to sleep!" George shouted through his pillow.

I snatched the vial from Fred's hand and downed it. Almost instantly, the burning in my ribs and back melted away, replaced by the distinct heaviness of pain potions in my muscles.

"Better?"

"Much." I stretched out in Fred's bed, a comfortable daze settling in.

"Great," I felt an arm drape over me. My eyes shot open. "Scootch over, you're such a bed hog."

"Oh hell no," I attempted to push Fred out of the bed. He just tightened his grip around me, "let me go!"

"What in Merlin's name is happening in here?" Mrs. Weasley's voice chimed, the door to the twins' room opening. I felt Fred's hand on the top of my head, shoving me under the blankets.

"Sorry mum, George was talking in his sleep again." George snorted.

"Keep it down, you two. Merlin's beard...it's three in the morning..." _Click._ The door shut and I threw back the covers.

"Fred there is no way I'm _cuddling_ with you!" I hissed, careful to not be heard by Mrs. Weasley.

"Yeah, because I'm going to let a girl doped up on pain potion crash around the house at 3 am. I'm not letting you go, Fry. Deal with it." Fred responded smugly.

"Can't I sleep with George?" I whined, eyes growing heavy.

"Absolutely not. You're a bed pig." George snapped.

"Then it's settled," Fred pulled me against him, smashing my cheek into his chest, "you're my snuggle buddy tonight."

"You're actually enjoying this, aren't you?" I said weakly, giving up on squirming out of his grasp.

"You know," Fred began petting my head like a dog's, "as much as you're the last...well, second last...McGonagall is the last...the second to last girl I want in my bed, the pleasure of torturing you outweighs the torture of having to touch you. So yes. I am enjoying this. Greatly."

"Bloody fantastic."

"GO TO BED!"

"Sorry George." We responded in unison.

_Flash _

My eyes flew open to see George laughing manically, holding a muggle Polaroid camera.

"Give me that photo right now George Weasley!" I tried scrambling out of bed, but a set of heavy limbs pinned me in place.

"Gemma, you have no idea what I have in mind for this photo." George blew on the photo, watching it develop.

"FRED WAKE UP YOU OAF!" I pounded my fists onto Fred's bare chest, his eyes finally flickering open.

"Hello gorgeous, sleep well?" Fred taunted.

"...I hate you." Finally freeing myself from Fred, I stood up. A little shaky, a little bruised, but shockingly no worse for wear. I stretched my arms overhead, joints clicking and popping, and turned to see my reflection.

"Guys...what the HELL am I wearing?!" I shouted, jerking down the hem of the baggy tshirt I was wearing.

"My old Hollyhead Harpies shirt...Merlin, did the fall screw up your vision?" Fred asked, waving a hand in front of my face.

"I can see that Fred, now tell me...WHY am I wearing YOUR shirt...AND NO PANTS?!"

"Well you see, it's harder to get pants on an unconscious person than you'd think-" Fred started. George was nearly in tears he was cackling so hard.

I felt my face grow hot. Fred Weasley had seen me in my knickers for Merlin's sake! I turned away as Fred kept babbling about how he certainly wasn't going to throw me in his bed covered in dirt…_obviously._

"…so really, I had no choice, Gem- hey! Where are you going?!" I stormed out of the twins' room. Still clad in Fred's shirt and my knickers, I slammed face-first into Bill.

"Morning, Gems-"

"Don't ask." I sputtered, watching the grin spread over Bill's face as he took in my appearance.

"You're full of surprises, aren't you, Gemma? Just when I thought you and Fred sincerely detested each other," Bill winked at me and slapped me on the back.

"ARE ALL YOU WEASLEY MEN INSANE?!" I stormed past Bill, throwing open Ginny's door and slamming it behind me.

"Where have you been? And why are you in Fred's shirt?"

"Because Fred and I spent all night having hot hate sex while George videotaped it. Care to watch?" Ginny cringed. Not that I blame her.

* * *

**A/N: Hope you liked chapter 3! As always, comments, likes, dislikes and suggestions are always appreciated!**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: This chapter is a bit short, but I will be updating again soon, so keep an eye out! Thank you to all my awesome reviewers and followers! Halopez18, BunnyMooMooMonster and nessafly, you guys are awesome! And a special thank you to chaasan for being way too kind and supportive! (ps she's an AMAZING writer. If you love the twins, check out her story "Suddenly," which has me totally hooked.)**

* * *

_Previously:_

_"Morning, Gems-"_

_"Don't ask." I sputtered, watching the grin spread over Bill's face as he took in my appearance._

_"You're full of surprises, aren't you, Gemma? Just when I thought you and Fred sincerely detested each other," Bill winked at me and slapped me on the back._

_"ARE ALL YOU WEASLEY MEN INSANE?!" I stormed past Bill, throwing open Ginny's door and slamming it behind me._

_"Where have you been? And why are you in Fred's shirt?"_

_"Because Fred and I spent all night having hot hate sex while George videotaped it. Care to watch?" Ginny cringed. Not that I blame her._

* * *

"So who do you reckon Dumbledore found to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts?" Lee Jordan mused, sitting upside down, his dreadlocks swaying with the motion of the train.

"Frankly," I started, surveying my nails, "I think he'll just skip all the hippogriff shit this year and get Voldemort himself to teach it. Learn by doing, you know?"

"He already took that route 2 years ago, remember? And he was a bloody awful professor." George quipped.

"True…" the rest of us chimed in. Sometimes, the whole twinspeak thing rubbed off.

There was a thumping at the door of the compartment, which caused Lee to crash headfirst off his bench. Before even the twins could shoot out an insult, Lee was on his feet and at the door. No sooner than Lee cracked it, Oliver Wood came marching through the door. Ever self-important, he was;

"Weasleys, Fry, meeting. Now."

"Oliver, m'boy-"

"-how was your holiday-"

"-ours was lovely-"

"-thanks for asking!" The twins chimed. Oliver paused to stare at them for a moment, before turning towards the door.

"Now." He stated once again. Stupid prat never could take a joke.

George heaved himself out of his seat, making over-exaggerated gagging faces, Fred following, grabbing a handful of my robes as he walked by,

"You're not weaseling your way out of this one, brat." He whispered, pulling me out of the compartment. So maybe I had a habit of missing Quidditch meetings…I always had a good reason. Like the fact Wood NEVER LET ME PLAY.

Wood pushed open a compartment, already holding Katie Bell, Angelina Johnson and Alicia Spinnet, all looking rather peeved to already be in one of Wood's ridiculous Quidditch meetings. Not that I blame them.

"Now I know it's early in the season-"

"-the season hasn't even started-" I stated.

"-you're not very good at covering your sarcasm, Fry."

"Wasn't trying to, _Wood._" Bloody wanker.

"As I was saying, it's early in the season, but I've been doing a lot of research over the holiday, and-"

"Hey…where's Harry?" Katie cut in this time.

"Yeah, if Harry doesn't have to suffer through this, I certainly shouldn't have to!"

"Fry, you have to be here because you're an alternate, you may have to take my place at any time, Harry, while part of the team, plays his own game, which is why I plan to have a meeting with him individually to discuss strategy. When he can't be distracted by all of you." Wood finished, his reference to the twins and I as "all of you" not going unnoticed by anyone.

"Hey…" George drawled, who was now sitting suspiciously close to Angelina (always knew those two were bonkers for each other), "Why you get an alternate, but none of us do? All you do is fly in front of some bloody hoops all game-"

"Enough!" Oliver held up a hand, "Gemma is an alternate for any position on the team-"

"-wait…what?" I snapped to attention, "Wood we both know I can't play anything bu-"

"For ANY position on the team. She is a versatile-"

"-hardly-" the twins chimed in unison,

"-versatile player, and an incredibly valuable member of this team." Wood finished. Well…this was news to me.

"Oliver, we all know you only keep Gemma around because you want to shag her brains out." Fred quipped. Katie and Alicia hid their laughter behind their hands. Angelina didn't bother hiding it, nearly falling out of her seat laughing.

"Fry's shagability has nothing to do with her position on this team-"

"Oliver do you fancy me?" I asked, giving my best attempt of a "come hither" stare.

"That is completely irrelevant! Now, as I was saying, I've been researching-"

"That's not a no, is it Freddy?"

"You know Georgie, it wasn't. I think our beloved captain and our...'alternate,'" Fred crooked his fingers into quotation marks. Git. "are a right pair of star crossed lovers-"

"Now that you mention it, Oliver you do spend a lot of one-on-one time training Gemma." Katie piped in.

"Merlin not you too, Katie! Please don't tell me Fred and George are rubbing off on the rest of the team!" Oliver raked his hands through his hair in frustration.

"Oliver and I are strictly business in our one-on-ones!" I defended, "doesn't he stretch and massage everyone after practices?" I questioned, feigning innocence.

"I DO NOT MASSAGE ANYONE ON THIS TEAM!" Oliver roared. Everyone in the compartment attempted to hold back laughter. "This is serious! This kind of behavior is why we lost the cup last year! And the year before!"

"Oliver there was no cup last year...remember how like...half the school was petrified?" Oliver glared at me. Whatever. It was true.

"Regardless-oh bloody hell!" The lights flickered out in the compartment. Funny, considering we were all just about to _actually_ start paying attention.

"See, Wood? Even the gods know you fancy Gemma!" Angelina quipped.

"Not to distract from the more important issue if how fit I am, but are we stopping?" Sure enough, the train began to slow, eventually coming to a full stop. Soon, a palpable chill edged its way into the compartment, and the door creaked open.

The worst feeling I can describe doesn't begin to cover the feeling I experienced. I breathed in icy air, my insides feeling like I'd taken a massive gulp of liquid nitrogen. A hazy, inky heaviness began clouding my vision.

I felt a bludger hit my ribs the first time I played Quidditch.

The burly Slytherin 6th year holding me by my throat against a cold stone wall.

Saw my grandfather die, his grip softening on my 12-year-old hand

My mother sobbing at the door, a messenger from handing her my father's wand and delivering the bad news.

And then, there was a light. It washed away the dark memories and brought a slight warmth back into my bones. Slowly, the compartment came back into focus. Oliver was standing near the door, wand drawn. A silvery-white Irish Wolf Hound stood at the door as a shadowy figure retreated. The hound followed the figure out, and the train lurched back to life.

"Oliver…" I don't know what I wanted to say. Words escaped me, but I knew Oliver had protected me. Protected us. As much shit as I give him, Oliver was an incredibly protective and loyal coach. Just don't tell him I told you that.

"It's fine." Oliver cut me off, tucking his wand back into his robes.

"Bloody hell." the twins chimed together. George had an arm protectively wrapped around Angeline. Katie was comforting Alicia, who quickly wiped a tear off her cheek.

"What-"

"A dementor. Does the bloody ministry honestly think Sirius sodding Black would be on the Hogwarts Express?!" Oliver ran a hand through his hair, his anxiety palpable.

"So…is the meeting cancelled?" I asked cautiously, all intended lightness and sarcasm absent from my voice. Oliver glanced over at me, still pacing around the small compartment.

"Wait, we never clarified whether or not Oliver thinks ickle Gemmie is shagable!" George piped in, humor returning to his voice. Angelina socked him playfully in the ribs and Alicia cracked a smile, no longer hiding her red-rimmed eyes.

"I did not put Gemma on the team because I want to shag her! Bloody hell!" Oliver threw his hands into the air.

"Oliver that wasn't the question." Katie said in a sing-song voice.

I stared intently at Oliver. Partly because I still felt as dry and emotionless as a saltine cracker.

"This meeting is over, we'll meet again after the feast-"

"-Answer the question, Wood-"

"-when we've all had something to eat and can focus on Quidditch, for once!" Oliver finished, ignoring George's continued prodding.

"Why so skiddish, Oli," George sang, smirking, "just answer the question! I mean, she is rather fetching, if you prefer stems and arse to tits, of course."

"HA HA HA OH MY GODS GEMMA DOESN'T HAVE ANY TITS HOW BLOODY ORIGINAL!" I screeched, causing half the compartment to wince or cover their ears. Fred, George and Oliver seemed unphased, however.

"Alright, alright, get back to your compartments, you bloody fools," Oliver waved us off, "Oh and Gemma?" Oliver called to me as I followed everyone else out of the compartment.

"Yes oh great and fearless leader?" I questioned innocently, looking over my shoulder.

"I really didn't put you on the team because you're fit-"

"Merlin I'd hope so-"

"-but," he looked down at the floor, a sheepish grin spreading across his face, "-it doesn't hurt that you are."

I stood in the door, slack-jawed, staring at my coach. Did Oliver Wood just admit he thinks I, Gemma Lorraine Fry, am fit? Was I hearing things? Was I in a dream? A nightmare?"

"Fry?" Oliver was staring at me. Or more accurately, my blank zombie stare.

"Wha?" Good one Gemma…good one.

"Merlin! You act like no bloke has ever called you fit in your life!"

"Um…" Again…I stun myself with my own attractiveness and ease around the opposite sex.

"Well…right then. See you at the feast." Oliver ruffled his hair. Was he nervous?

"Right…Oliver?" As with 94% of the things that I do or say…I claim no responsibility for what I said next. A social experiment…or something…I'm not sure.

"Yeah?"

"Do you want to do something non-Quidditch related sometime?" What the hell was I thinking?! I can barely tolerate Oliver at practice, let alone go on a _date_ with him!

A grin spread across Oliver's face; "Gemma Fry…do you think I'm fit?"

"Just answer the question!" I snapped. I could feel the blood prickling in my cheeks, and wanted to get the hell out of there before I was at Ron Weasley-level flushed.

"Yes, Gemma, I would love to do something, sometime."

"Ok…cool…see you, then." I turned and scrambled out of the compartment, only to crash into a very familiar-feeling, muscular torso.

"FRED!" I screamed, attempting to untangle myself from Fred's long limbs.

"First you ask Wood on a date, and now you're all over me? Gemma Fry you scarlet woman!" Fred grabbed me by the waist and rolled me off him. I fell to the floor with a dull thud.

"Were you eavesdropping you fucking pervert?" I hissed, smacking him hard in the side.

"Not that it's your business, Fry, but I thought I dropped my wand and came back to check. Though I _can't wait_ to share this little _encounter_ with Georgie and the rest of the team."

"UGH I CAN'T BLOODY STAND YOU!" I turned and stormed away down the corridor. I'd had enough Fred for the day.

"Hey Gemma, do you want to do something, sometime?" Fred called after me in a mocking tone.

...Oh I'd love to do something with you Fred Weasley…

...Not like that…

…well…


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N A major thank you to everyone who reviewed, followed and favorited! You guys are seriously too sweet!**

**I don't own Harry Potter, blah blah blah**

* * *

_Previously:_

_"UGH I CAN'T BLOODY STAND YOU!" I turned and stormed away down the corridor. I'd had enough Fred for the day._

_"Hey Gemma, do you want to do something, sometime?" Fred called after me in a mocking tone._

_Oh I'd do something with Fred Weasley…_

_Not like that…_

_…well…_

Chapter 5

The remainder of the train ride was shockingly uneventful. After avoiding Lee, George and Fred for as long as I could, I pulled open the compartment door, expecting an onslaught of sarcastic comments, but as I walked in…nothing.

"What is that face, Fry? You look like Snape just force-fed you a lemon." Fred tossed at me.

I stared into those deceivingly innocent brown eyes, just waiting.

"Oy! Hello?!" Fred waved his hands at me.

"You didn't…?" I questioned, dangerously close to blowing my cover. George and Lee looked at me quizzically.

"I didn't what, Gemmie dearest?" Fred crossed his legs, elbows on his knee, chin in his hands, stupid big brown eyes fluttering. Git.

"Er…nothing I guess. Still a little foggy from the swoopy-cloaky-blacky thing." I shook my head and plunked down next to George, who was still giving me a bit of a strange look.

"Swoopy-cloaky-blacky thing? Man that's racist!" Lee shouted in mock hurt.

"Oy Lee, you've been watching too much American muggle television." I tossed at him, slowly regaining my composure.

Fred didn't tell anyone. He didn't tell anyone! He didn't…tell…wait. This was bad. Right? I mean, this had to be bad!

The feast was uneventful as well. Dumbledore introduced the new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, a slightly tattered, though very attractive man in his mid-30s. Maybe Defense would be enjoyable this year, after the last few years…well here's hoping. At least I could stare at him while he lectured.

As promised, Oliver collected us all after the feast…like right after, to discuss just how we were going to "demolish the competition and claim what's rightfully ours."

"Oliver what the bloody hell are you talking about?" I snapped. My nerves were fried. I'd spent the past 5 hours stressing, flinching every time Fred opened his mouth, waiting for the moment he destroyed my credibility as…as…well, something, I'm sure.

"Gemma did none of this get through that thick skull of yours?" Oliver hissed, running his hands through his hair.

"No." I retorted matter-of-factly

"Alright, you all can go-NOT you Fry, you get to stick around and tell me my strategies for this year."

"Oh come on!" I protested as everyone else scampered away. I threw myself onto one of the overstuffed couches in the common room. Maybe a little dramatic…but hey, it was late, and I had to wake up early so I could look effortlessly beautiful for Defense Against the Dark Arts in the morning. Sure, snogging a professor is totally creepy and unethical…but that's just the kind of girl I am, and who are you to tell me-er-right, sorry.

Oliver put out his hand. I, being the eloquent, beautiful, flirtatious girl I am, stared at it.

Oliver huffed, "Gemma will you take my damn hand?"

"Oh, er, right." I took his hand and stood up from the couch. Instead of pulling me towards the table where he'd laid out several sheets of parchment covered in all the plays he'd worked up over the holiday, Oliver pulled me towards the portrait hole.

"Whoa hey! What are you doing?!" I hissed, stumbling out into the corridor after Oliver.

"Something. Non-Quidditch related. Sometime." Oliver grinned at me, pulling me down the hall towards the stairwell.

"Oliver! This is ridiculous! I have class in 7 hours!"

"Shh!" Oliver whipped around, catching me by the shoulders and pulling both of us behind a tapestry, smashing me against the stone wall.

"OLI-" A rough hand clamped over my mouth. A common occurrence in my life as of late.

Oliver had his head turned slightly, listening for whomever was patrolling to pass. I looked closely at Oliver, probably for the first time ever. His skin was darker than usual, presumably from spending the summer practicing outdoors, a handful of freckles dotted his nose and cheeks…how had I never noticed those before? Maybe because players aren't supposed to date their coaches…good thing I never actually played.

"Ok, I think We're good." Oliver slid out from behind the tapestry, I followed his lead.

Two staircases and several corridors later, and we were at a statue I knew very well. The statue of Gregory the Smarmy, which, of course, hid a passage out of the castle. Into Hogsmeade.

"Oliver!" I protested. He ignored me, as per usual, and pulled out his wand. He muttered an incantation under his breath, and the passage I'd taken dozens of times since the twins discovered it in the first year appeared.

"Ladies first?" Oliver offered.

"I swear if I'm late for Defense in the morning, it will be your ass." I muttered, crawling into the opening. Oliver followed, checking to make sure no one followed before resealing the statue.

"_Lumos_" I illuminated the tip of my wand, though I could probably navigate the tunnels blind. The twins favored the One-Eyed Witch passage out of the castle, but Gregory would always be my favorite. Less chance of getting caught, and the tunnel let out near the Three Broomsticks. Where they served fire whiskey. A personal favorite.

Oliver and I jogged through the tunnel. I was bound and determined to still get a good night's sleep. I don't know why I thought I'd still get sufficient sleep, it was 1:30 am and Defense started at 8 am sharp, but I still hoped. Soon, the path became slightly obstructed by roots. I knew we were getting close to the tree where the tunnel let out.

"Careful, here you have to..oh…" I began scaling the roots projecting into the tunnel, which had taken an abrupt 90 degree turn. I smirked to myself, knowing Oliver had to have been looking forward to helping me up. I appreciated his chivalry…but I was no helpless little girl. I could handle my own, especially when it came to going places I wasn't supposed to be. Befriending a Weasley twin had its advantages. Many of them derived from the sheer lack of chivalry possessed by Fred and George. At least towards girls they didn't want to shag.

I pulled myself out of the ground through a thick layer of cobwebs. Clearly, the path had not been used since the previous year, and the spiders wasted no time reclaiming their space.

Ok, despite the fact I was a little peeved I was totally _forced_ onto this trip, Hogsmeade at night was such a beautiful sight. Every storefront was lit with twinkling lights, but the light wasn't bright enough to block out the stars in the clear autumn sky. Five years later, the sight still took my breath away.

"This is my favorite." I muttered, taking in the beautiful town, the crisp fall air seemingly washing away the day.

"I know." I jumped slightly, forgetting Oliver was right behind me. I whipped around, nearly crashing into Oliver; "Fred told me…he actually gave me the idea last year." Oliver rubbed the back of his head, grinning sheepishly.

"Fred?" I questioned, not hiding the disgust in my voice.

"Well, yeah…to be fair, he was mocking you…" Oliver trailed off. Of course Fred was mocking me. Bloody tosser was too obsessed with Zonkos to appreciate the beauty of this place. "So I was thinking-"

"-Oh let's go to the Shrieking Shack!"

"-or we can do that…" I scampered away, Oliver trailing behind. Sure, girls are _supposed_ to let guys pick where to go on dates…but I'd asked Oliver out. And I wanted to go watch the night sky from the Shrieking Shack.

"This is…quite the hike." Oliver panted. I was practically sprinting up the hill. I wanted to see those damn stars. Apparently Oliver didn't believe in running all the laps he forced me to run. Serves him right to be out of breath.

"Yeah, well, it's totally worth the view." I stopped at the top of the hill. The Shrieking Shack was barely visible in the starlight. Oliver joined me moments later, attempting to hide how out of breath he was.

"Damn, Wood. Thought you were an athlete!"

"I am an athlete! Keepers must…focus on their strength!" He finished, still breathing heavily.

"Then why do you make me run lap after lap after lap while you fly around chasing the bloody quaffel?!"

"Because you need to learn discipline. And respect." He stated, regaining his breath. Git.

"I have plenty of discipline! And I respect those who earn it!" I stomped towards Oliver, jamming a finger into his chest. His firm, broad chest…stop it, Gemma! Make your point! Then ogle!

"You're built like a seeker, fly like a chaser, and take hits like a beater. All I'm trying to do is _somehow_ take all that and make you into a keeper! Which is the absolute _last_ position you're suited to play." He finished smugly.

"EXCUSE ME?" I nearly screamed, lunging at him. I hit him low, a technique I learned from too many wrestling matches against Fred.

Oliver went toppling over, taking me with him. Before he could gain his composure, I slammed my hands down on his shoulder joints, locking out my arms.

"Built like a seeker, flies like a chaser, hits like a beater," he stated again, "…with the determination of a keeper. _That's_ why I put you on the team." He finished.

"Oliver…" I grinned sheepishly.

"But you can't focus…" Oliver grabbed my waist, flipping me over and slamming me to the ground and rolling on top of me, "…that's why you run while we play," he leaned down until his lips grazed my ear, "_discipline_." I shivered, not sure the nature of my frustration…if you get what I'm saying…he's hot, Oliver is hot, and whispering in my ear, that's what I'm saying. "You're easily distracted by any bloke over the age of 13 who dons a Quidditch uniform." Oliver finished, sitting up straight, still pinning my hips to the ground under his.

"Hey! Not every bloke! Just the fit ones! And I wouldn't be distracted in an actual game!" I whined.

"You play how you practice. Practice distracted, play distracted."

"Well how could I not be distracted watching you play," I grabbed Oliver's tie and pulled his face down to mine, "_my captain_…" I purred, nipping at his lower lip.

Oliver's breath caught in his chest. I tilted my head slightly, catching his lips in a gentle kiss, raking my hands gently through his hair…and swiftly shifting my weight, rolling us over so I was on top of him once again.

"Practice distracted, play distracted." I stated, once again in control.

"Well played, Fry." Oliver stated, chuckling.

I rolled off Oliver, laying next to him and taking in the stars. I'd been sneaking out of the castle for as long as I could remember to come see the stars. Something about them has always put me at ease, like a reset button for my mind. Every few weeks, I'd sneak away for part of the night and just watch them.

I had no idea how long we laid there in silence. I jumped in surprise when I felt Oliver's fingers brush through my hair. I turned to look at him, his fingers trailing over the side of my face. It was a strange feeling, to be honest. This was my coach, after all. I was used to him yelling or lecturing me; "_Gemma, Grip the broom with your legs, Gemma don't chuck quaffels at your teammates, Gemma stop flashing the chasers_…" rubbish.

"What?" Oliver questioned, grinning at me.

"What what?"

"You've got this look on your face…" Oliver trailed off, chuckling softly.

"I was just thinking of all the stupid orders you give me all the time," I answered honestly, "_Gemma you can't use a beater's bat to defend the goals, Gemma don't sneak into the boys locker room while we're showering…" _I teased in a high pitched voice.

"You have no idea how many laps you just earned yourself, Fry." Oliver whispered in my ear before trailing his lips down my neck. A shiver ran down my spine as I attempted to keep my breathing normal.

"Oliver…It's getting late." I felt him smile into my neck before propping himself up on one arm.

"Yeah alright, Fry. Let's get going."

* * *

We snuck back into the castle and up to the common room without alerting anyone to our presence. It was too late for even Filch to be patrolling, though the Fat Lady was rather perturbed we woke her at such a late hour.

"Ladies shouldn't be sneaking around with men at this hour, Miss Fry, it sends the wrong message." She scolded me.

"Good thing I'm not much of a lady then, eh?" I quipped, winking at the portrait before scrambling into the common room. She began to retort, but was cut off when Oliver closed the door behind him.

"Gemma?" Oliver called. I turned around to find him just inches from me; "Tonight was fun, and ah…" he ruffled his hair nervously, "would it be alright if I kissed you goodnight?"

"Are you serious? Like are you seriously asking to kiss me right now?" I teased, not hiding my laughter.

"My mother taught me to be-" I cut him off, pressing my lips to his. After a moment of shock, his armed snaked around my waist, pulling me tight against him. His kiss was gentle and cautious, which was a welcome change from the aggressive teeth cleaning I'd gotten one too many times in the common room.

"Merlin…" Wood muttered as I pulled away.

"Goodnight, Wood." I bounced up on my tiptoes, catching his lips once more before prancing up the stairs to the girls' dormitory, leaving Wood alone and in shock in the common room.

* * *

**Another chapter done! Not my favorite, probably because of the severe lack of twins. Don't worry, they'll be back soon! Oh, and reviews/suggestions/likes/dislikes always appreciated!**


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